VI. The Ghetto
From miles away, through an abdominal
haze, it glittered like snakes' eyes in a wine glass.
Droplets had nowhere to roll for they were already
in the bottom of the bowl. Majestic fountains
flowed/mingled with urine and wine -- yours
and mine -- aranciata and laundry. No danger
and no reason to leave. It was easy to leave,
but it didn't matter.
Rome -- late March, 1989
©Evan Hause